


someone's been watching too much SPN

by RosePerSomnium



Series: Steter Week 2018 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (over)protective!Peter, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, SPN!nerd!Peter, Steter Week 2018, it's easier to be vulnerable in the dark, mistaken demon possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosePerSomnium/pseuds/RosePerSomnium
Summary: After his annual eye exam, Stiles only wants a quiet evening. His suspicious boyfriend thinks differently.





	someone's been watching too much SPN

**Author's Note:**

> Ignoring today's prompt again for this. Inspiration and websites mentioned in the fic can be found in endnotes for spoiler reasons ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> (And please let me know any suggestions for improvement or just what you thought of this!)

Stiles gave a jerk when the apartment door closed behind him. In one practiced move, he whirled around into a fighting stance — only to see his stupid boyfriend. "Really, Peter?" He relaxed and turned away. "I'm not in the mood for this. Is dinner ready, by any chance?" He kicked his sneakers off and dropped his keys onto the message center. 

"Take your sunglasses off."

"No, thanks."

"Take them _off_ ," Peter repeated in that same cold voice. 

Stiles looked at him, surprised. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I'm––" 

In a flash, Peter was right behind him, twirled him around and pressed him against the wall. "This isn't about _me_ ," he said, examining his face, "but all about your odd behavior. Now take them off or I will do it." 

Stiles frowned. "What odd behavior? You're making no sense, Peter, and I'm exhausted, so just let me go and we can––" 

"I'm talking about your doctor's appointment that took far too long," his boyfriend interrupted him, "and you driving in the dark with sunglasses on and now refusing to take them off. You even smell wrong." 

Stiles sighed. "And I can explain everything about that once I've made myself comforta––" In one quick motion, Peter picked the sunglasses off his face. 

"What the hell, dude?" Stiles squinted his eyes as a sharp pain shot through his head. "Impatient much today? I just told you I would explain it in a minute!" 

"I knew it," Peter growled. "Don't worry, Stiles, I'll bring you right to Deaton's. It won't be like last time." 

Stiles threw his hands up. "I've got no idea what you're talking about! Could you turn off the light at least so I can see you while you're going crazy?" After he had heard the light switch click, he opened his eyes cautiously. "Thank you." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Now would you mind telling me what you think is going on?" 

Peter glared at him in hatred. "I see you, demon. Your eyes are still black." 

Stiles let his head fall back with a thump, murmuring, "You've got to be kidding me." More clearly, he added, "As heartwarming as your protectiveness is, Peter, I'm not possessed. Seriously, look closer, it's only my pupil that's dilated, okay? The iris is still there. I'm still myself." 

"Why?" His boyfriend scrutinized him, hesitating but not convinced yet.  

Stiles exhaled audibly. So much for relaxing after a long day. "It's part of the routine eye exams humans take as a precaution. They dilate your pupil so they can diagnose illnesses faster." 

"I want proof." 

Stiles nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket, but winced when the screen brightened up. "Can I have my sunglasses back?" He rolled his eyes when Peter handed them over while watching his every move like he was expecting him to make a run for it. A quick Google search later, he passed his phone to the other. Peter grabbed his hand instead, holding his gaze. When he didn't seem to break it anytime soon, Stiles raised his eyebrows. "It's weird to stare someone wearing sunglasses in the eyes." 

Finally, Peter looked at the screen, leaving his hand around Stiles's and scrolling with the other. "They recommend not driving after that." 

"Yeah, when it's your first time. I've been through that for years. Driving isn't a problem." 

Peter went back to the article, snarling when he came to the end. "Do you take me for an idiot? The earliest age for this is forty." His grip became painful. 

"God, if I had known you'd make such a fuss about it, I would've spent the night at my dad's." Stiles yanked his hand back to google with different parameters. "I'm a special case, okay." He thrust the phone into Peter's face. 

 _Eyes Hold Clues To Changes In The Brain For Rare Frontotemporal Dementia_  

Peter looked back up without scrolling through it. "Are you all right?" 

" _Yes_. I have to do it every year, but that's it. They never found anything." 

"Good." 

That was as close to an apology as Peter would go, so Stiles took it with a tired smile. "Sorry for worrying you. Can I get a kiss and dinner now?" 

"Of course, sweetheart." Peter stepped closer to embrace him, kissing him softly and taking all leftover pain. He led Stiles to the kitchen for a quiet meal, then relieved him from his clean-up duties in favor of a hot shower and lying down. 

Stiles got ready for bed quietly, opposed to his usual non-stop rambling, one dimmed down bedside lamp the only light. With a sigh, he crawled under the covers, wiggling around until he was comfortable, then listened to his boyfriend finishing up, going to the bathroom himself and joining him. Peter moved close and arranged him to his liking. Stiles ended up half-sprawled on top of him, Peter's arms circling him more firmly than usual. He huffed. "I'm okay, worrywolf."

"I can't protect you if you don't tell me things."

"I've been doing this on my own for years, no need to inconvenience you."

Peter's grip tightened even more. "I'm not an alpha anymore. If anything happened to you––"

"I'm okay." Stiles pressed a kiss on Peter's chest. "I'm okay." 

"Don't keep things like this from me. Even if you think it's stupid."

"I won't."

"Okay." Peter ran his fingers through Stiles's hair, taking his budding headache. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." 

"Hmm." Stiles felt hot with his whole body held against the werewolf's, the embrace almost confining, but he was too exhausted to say anything and knew Peter craved the contact, so he let himself drift off. 

*** 

Stiles woke to the smell of coffee, like every morning. Seriously, Peter was the best boyfriend ever. He got up yawning and shuffling out of their bedroom with his eyes still closed. He had done that so many times before he didn't even run into any furniture or walls anymore. (And it had made him stop leaving his clothes and shoes all over the floor, something Peter had worked on training out of him for weeks beforehand.) 

His fingers slid along the wall to orientate himself when suddenly, it felt like he had stepped on a bunch of tiny pebbles. Weird. Peter didn't allow dirt after the mudroom. Stiles made a mental note about vacuuming, then took the next step — onto more pebbles.  

He frowned, lowered his head and opened his eyes. He was standing on a line of white… grains? reaching from one side of the doorway to the other. Blinking, he licked a finger, tapped the substance and put it into his mouth. Salty. Slow-brained as he still was, it took him a few seconds to understand, then his face became blank. 

He walked into the kitchen much more awake, ready to make fun of Peter when something on the counter caught his attention. "Really, Peter?" 

"Good morning, sweetheart." His boyfriend had the decency to sound cautious at least. 

Stiles looked the sternest he could muster this early in the morning. "Did you brew my coffee with holy water?" 

"… Yes?" 

"And put a salt line in the doorway of our bedroom?"

Peter squared his shoulders. "I had to be absolutely sure." 

"And are you now?" 

"Yes."

Stiles walked over to pick up the costly coffee, shaking his head and muttering "unbelievable". He took a sip, trying to gather his thoughts, then pointed a finger at his boyfriend. "You. Are on a _Supernatural_ ban until further notice."  

"I'm an adult, you can't—"

"And," Stiles said, poking him into the chest. Peter fell silent. "you're cleaning up the mess you made and get me new holy water as soon as possible." 

"Of course."

"Good. Let's have breakfast, then."

While they were eating, Peter was already on the phone with their contact for supernatural matters, his posture finally loosened up again. He glanced up, his eyebrows raised.  

Stiles smiled and shook his head. "Love you too, nerdwolf."

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration: My host-mom came home from her eye exam looking like a demon a few weeks ago (I didn't know eye dilation was a thing...). Watching out for Steter week prompts, I got the idea for this story — only to find out it's just for adults of at least 40... (https://www.brightfocus.org/glaucoma/article/dilated-eye-exam-why-its-so-important)
> 
> Well, a quick "eye dilation + frontotemporal dementia" google search (https://www.medicaldaily.com/eyes-hold-clues-changes-brain-rare-frontotemporal-dementia-299576) couldn't hurt before trashing the idea, right?
> 
> :)


End file.
